


You Lied To Me

by Skullbones



Series: Medievil; Origins [2]
Category: MediEvil (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-03 17:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11536818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullbones/pseuds/Skullbones





	1. Chapter 1

Daniel paced impatiently in the king's hall. He simply hated waiting. King Peregrin watched him and shook his head with a quiet laugh. He remembers what it was like to be so young. He was not patient either. The guard would come through the doors momentarily, just give them some time. The king wad taken up knitting to battle his arthritis and found he rather enjoyed it. He was not very good at it, however, but he did not care. As long as he was content, he would be happy. He often knitted bonnets for the castle cats and would occasionally make gifts for the members of his court. It made him happy to see Daniel wearing he scarf he made for him despite how hot it was outside, it was the middle of summer, after all. Perhaps Daniel could take up knitting as well, he might find he enjoys it, himself! It might help with his pacing.

Daniel stopped in the middle of the Hall and stood as tall and as proud as he could. He loves to put on a show of bravado in front of new people. He has to live up to his proud and intimidating reputation, after all. He falters when he sees the person his men have brought back. The 'marksman' he's heard about didn't really live up to his expectations.  
He was just a boy...a rather scrawny one at that. He barely came up to Daniel's chest. He could hardly hold the crossbow in his shaky hands. His wide eyes threatened to split his face. 

Upon being brought to Daniel, the boy got down on his knees and placed the old, beat up crossbow on the ground in front of him, then bowed low. Daniel felt sorry for him...surely his men had the wrong person.  
"You, boy, what is your name?" Daniel asked, his voice booming with forced power. He flinched when he saw the boy tremble.  
Daniel heard him say something, but he was too quiet.  
"Speak up, lad. You are speaking to me, not the ants. There is no need to be frightened. You are not in trouble." Daniel said, cutting his facade. He did not mean to scare him.  
"M-My name is Timothy...Trueshot, sir." The boy said without rising, keeping his face to the floor. He did not so much as even glance at Daniel.

"Well Timothy, you may rise. Rumour carries fast in the land and word has reached me of your superior skills as an archer. I wish to see for myself. If you are not up to this, my men will return you safely to your home." Daniel said, hoping the child would hurry out the door and back to his family.  
Timothy rose and nodded. He picked his crossbow from the ground and held it close to his chest. He mumbled something again, avoiding eye contact with Daniel.  
"Hm? Speak up. You are a very quiet young man. I understand you may be nervous, but please try to not be intimidated." Daniel said approaching him.

"I...I said alright. W-What do you want me to shoot, sir? How may I prove myself to you, sir?" Timothy said meekly, still avoiding eye contact.  
Daniel sighs, the poor kid is going to embarrass himself in front of his men. He might die from shame!  
"Very well. We have targets out near the gardens. Follow me, now." Daniel said, waving his men their dismissal. 

"How old are you, son? Ten? Twelve?" Daniel asked as he led Timothy towards the range. King Peregrin had put down his knitting to follow the two, so Daniel walked slowly to not leave the elderly monarch behind.  
"I'm...fourteen, actually, sir..." Timothy said as he quietly followed along. He was too nervous to look back at the smiling king behind them.  
"Why, you're still just a little sprout. Make sure you eat all your veggies so you grow big and strong like Sir Daniel, ho ho ho!" The old king laughed as he placed a hand on Timothy's shoulder. He flinched at the sudden touch, as if he'd been expecting to be stricken. King Peregrin noticed and took his hand away. He chastises himself mentally for he should know better than to touch someone without warning. 

 

Daniel led his charge to the target range where his own archers practiced. Many stopped shooting to stare at the boy that Daniel brought in. Daniel shooed a ranger from his spot and gestured for Timothy to stand there instead.  
"Well then. You may fire when ready. If...you wish to stand a little closer to the target you may do so." Daniel said, feeling the pressure he'd just placed on the kid's shoulders. Telling him to go home now would shame him even further, he feared.  
"I'm fine right here, sir. I can hit it." Timothy said loading the crossbow. 

Whispers began to rise when Timothy did not shoot for several minutes. With a glare, Daniel silenced his men.  
"You may shoot...any time. That target. The one right there. In front of you. The one with the bullse-" Daniel jumped back in fright as the boy suddenly fired three arrows in succession. He loaded his crossbow so fast, his hand was hardly visible.  
The first arrow hit the bullseye dead center. The second split the first down the middle, while the third also split the arrow before it.

Daniel stood dumbfounded as the boy bounced happily and cheered himself quietly. When he remembered where he was and who stood mere feet away, Timothy froze and regained his composure, eyes cast back to the ground. If he could draw into his body any further, he might disappear.  
King Peregrin clapped and laughed. He was excited to see such skill and was amused by Timothy's short dance. 

Timothy strode up to the target and looked at the first bolt, then pointed to it and bounced happily again, a huge grin plastered onto his face.  
"Yes, yes. I see. Very good shot." Daniel said, clapping along with the king.  
"Sir, look! I've done it again! I did it! I got it!" the boy said, his immature voice cracking in excitement.  
Daniel curiously walked to the target and inspected the arrows. Pinned to the target by the first bolt, Daniel saw a fly.  
Daniel was speechless. His eyes slowly glanced at Timothy. The boy's smile slowly fell and he resumed his fearful demeanor.

"Impressive. How long have you been shooting arrows for?" Daniel asked, taking Timothy to the side.  
"Um...all my life, sir..." Timothy said quietly.  
"Long time huh? Hey...are you afraid of me? I do not mean to frighten you. I am not going to harm you and you are not in trouble." Daniel said, placing his finger under Timothy's chin and lifts so he faces him. He's astonished to see his eyes beginning to brim with tears.  
"Y-You're not going to rip my head off...a-and you're not going to eat my innards, are you?" the boy said, his voice quaking.  
Daniel knelt down on one knee and held him close to comfort him. The story of his battle with the turkey-man came to mind. He never meant for that tale to make him out to be such a monster. Was it to blame, or was it a tale spun by a mischievous child that hoped to scare other children?  
"Hey, hey now. Nobody is going to rip your head off. I'm a hero...heroes don't do that to innocent people. I know you're a really nice and talented young man. Who told you I was going to tear your bloody head off?" Daniel asked patting Timothy's back to calm him.

"M-My friends...they said that's w-what happens when you're brought to the castle. You're locked in the dungeon with rhinotaurs, you get your head chopped off, they drain the blood of young people so they can bathe in it and live forever..." Timothy fell silent when Daniel began to laugh. When Timothy thought about what he just said, he couldn't help but feel ridiculous.  
"Hahaha! Th-That may happen in France, but not in dear Gallowmere! Tell me, did you seriously think I brought you here just to chew your brains?" Daniel laughed.  
"Um..."  
"Do I look like a vampire to you, Timothy?"  
"A little..."  
Daniel could not stop himself from laughing even harder. He drew attention to the two. Timothy hid in his baggy tunic as his face reddened. He just called Sir Daniel Fortesque a vampire right to his face.  
King Peregrin began to laugh too from where he stood, despite not knowing what was so funny.

Daniel regained his composure after losing his head, wiping tears from his eyes. He pats Timothy's shoulder and ruffles his hair.  
"You know? I like you! You're hilarious and you're bloody talented. I want to take you under my wing. I can see you growing up into a fine archer...legendary, even! You're so good already at such a young age but with more practice and training, you will go down in history, possibly as the greatest marksman who ever lived! Will you join my force?" Daniel asked. He smiled expectantly when he saw Timothy peek out from behind his tunic, his eyes wide.

"D-Do you really...I mean...I do...a-are you sure? Oh gosh..." Timothy stammered.  
"You will be taken care of, your family will be taken care of, you'll have all the time in the world to train and practice, and you'll be regarded as a hero...plus you'll get to serve alongside me! Surely there's no greater honour!" Daniel said, rising to his feet.  
"You really want me in your army, Sir Fortesque?! To battle at your side? A hero like you wants...a...a nobody like me?"

"Haha, well you'll be a somebody if you say yes. So what say you?" Daniel said, putting on his bravado once again.  
"Wh-Yes! I do! I-I mean...I accept! Uh...w-when do I start? Do I just start shooting that target again?" Timothy said, his mouth going a kilometer a minute.  
"Slow down, son! One thing at a time! First, you should go back to your home and tell your family that you are taking up this noble task. Your training will begin on the morrow. Perform well enough and surely you will be knighted." Daniel said as he ruffled the boy's hair again.

"I-I will! I promise I won't let you down, Sir Fortesque! I'll do my best to be the best marksman by your side! My life is yours, sire!" Timothy said jumping up and down excitedly. Daniel admired his energy. He was like a playful young lamb.  
Daniel led Timothy to the stables and sent two guards to accompany him home and to help explain to his parents the duty their son had agreed to. He watched them canter away down the cobbles. Daniel put aside his doubts after seeing just what the boy could do. He had a very good feeling about this one. Daniel knows knighthood is a very dangerous occupation, but Gallowmere has not seen war for hundreds of years. He knows that he and his new charge will live their days in safety and luxury. Having such a skilled marksman by his side would further boost his reputation, and it would be entertaining to watch him shoot more bugs out of the air. Daniel hates bugs.  
Daniel feels as though he has done a very good thing.


	2. Chapter 2

Within a decade, young Trueshot had quickly overcome the rigours of his training. He had grown up strong and his aim was perfect. The boy had grown like a weed and his height rivaled even Daniel's. He had grown accustomed to being around others and had really come out of his shell. He was very well liked among the ranks of the king's men and was always more than happy to boost morale. He had taken up music lessons and proved himself to be as talented with lute and song as he was with a crossbow.

Timothy rarely missed a shot. He was the best archer under Daniel's command. Daniel even had custom crossbows made to accommodate how quickly Timothy could load and fire. Tim's favourite crossbow had been carved from an enchanted, ancient tree and had a dragonbone inlay. It felt like an extension of his arm. He rarely put it down. He would even take it to bed with him and embrace it as one would a stuffed animal.  
His technique was perfect, though sometimes the hair trigger would go off without his meaning to. Occasionally shots would fire from his crossbow at inconvenient times and would send everyone, including the archer himself, running for cover. Sometimes the arrows would ricochet off walls, causing greater havoc.

One such occasion happened during a muddy autumn evening. Timothy sat on the empty grounds of the range. It did get rather spooky while he sat alone in the dark quietness. Despite the uneasy feeling, Timothy liked to be alone every once in a while. He loved being around people more, sure, but getting away from the noise and hype helped him clear his thoughts.  
He felt a pang of sadness as he thought of the stories Daniel would tell. Daniel has lived through several lifetimes worth of adventure, but Timothy has rarely left the walls of the palace. He wanted adventure too. He wanted to travel the world and strike down all manner of monsters and villains as Daniel had. Daniel had piles of enemies laying at his feet, but the only living things Timothy shot were game, an absurd amount of insects Daniel pointed him to, and one time he accidentally shot Daniel in the left bum cheek. He thought he killed the Hero of Gallowmere when he saw Daniel look at the arrow protruding from his rear and promptly faint. Poor Daniel couldn't sit right for a month. Timothy still has not forgiven himself.

Timothy began to polish his treasured crossbow. He daydreamed of riding into battle alongside the fabled hero, firing a rain of arrows down on those who dare threaten Gallowmere. Whether an army of mortal men, a legion of demons, or a horde of dragons, he will bravely follow Daniel into the fray. He was promoted to being Daniel's Second in Command early in his career for a reason and he would gladly show it to Daniel's enemies. He doesn't really understand that reason, himself. Surely there is more to being Second in Command than being a good shot. He was fairly average in all other aspects. Timothy kept his mouth shut about it.

He is brought back to earth when he hears a sudden twang. A bolt ricocheting off a stone wall sent him diving beneath a bench for safety. The image of himself with an arrow in his rear flashed through his mind. Daniel at least had someone there to help him when he was shot, but Tim is all alone! Nobody would help him!  
He hears a glass window shatter and a shriek pierces the cold air. Tim gulps, now wishing the arrow stuck him instead of going through that window. He has no time to flee as a pillar of fire erupts in front of him. 

Timothy yelps as a gnarled hand grabs a fistful of his hair by the roots and forces him up to his feet. He comes face to face with the court wizard, Zarok. The arrow had pierced his horned headdress.  
"What is the meaning of this, you runt? Look what you have done?! I will have you executed for this attempted assassination!" Zarok spat.  
"It was an accident, sir. I did not mean-" Timothy began but was cut off by a hard slap.  
"You will not speak unless given permission, you wretched cockroach! The only accident here is you! I always knew you had it out for me but this is the last straw! I will pluck your eyes out and boil you alive!" Zarok shrieked. 

Zarok delighted in tormenting the castle's favourite puppy. Poor Timothy often found himself on the receiving end of Zarok's experiments. He's been turned into a frog, he's had his hair fall out, and Zarok had once poisoned his drink and rendered him unconscious for over a month and tried to convince the king that he was dead. If not for Daniel's meddling, Timothy would have been buried alive. The old sorcerer was all around cruel to the young archer, all for no apparent reason. Timothy never provoked him. 

"What is the meaning of this?! Release him, Zarok!" Daniel's voice suddenly boomed. Daniel was accompanied by five guards and the group charged the sorcerer, swords drawn. Zarok raises his hand higher and forced Timothy to stand on his toes.  
"Look what your little rat did to me! He tried to kill me, I am only acting in self defense!" Zarok growled.  
"We both know if he wanted to kill you, that arrow would be through your heart, not your girlish hat." Daniel said as he drew his weapon up at Zarok's chest.

"The king will hear of this!" Zarok hissed.  
"He sure will. I will tell him how you threatened poor Tim here. I'll tell him that you want to pluck out his eyes and boil him alive.You know that would make the king very happy. You're already on thin ice, Zarok. Now...release my Second." Daniel said, his guards drawing in nearer to Zarok. The sorcerer knew Daniel would not be brave enough to face him if he didn't have backup. Daniel would hide, even as Zarok tore the flesh from the archer's bones, he knew 'The Hero of Gallowmere' would tremble in the shadows instead of coming to the aid of his precious little lapdog.  
Zarok rolls his eyes and tosses Timothy to the ground while spitting on him. Daniel offers his hand to his archer to help him to his feet. He glares daggers at the old sorcerer.

 

"Hey. Are you alright? How's your head?" Daniel said as he stopped his Second as he headed out towards the range the next morning.  
"Yes, sir. Thank you for stepping in for me last night. You really scared him off!" Canny Tim said, his bright demeanour seemingly unaffected by yesterday's events. Even at this early hour, his energy knew no bounds. Daniel was still blinking away his grogginess.  
"Yeah. That old bollocks is scared to death of me. He's just jealous that you're young while he's old and ugly." Daniel said punching Canny Tim's shoulder lightly.  
"Oh, sir that's so rude!" Tim said, trying to suppress a laugh.  
"I talked to the king about yesterday. He said he'll have a word with Zarok for us. Are you sure you're alright? He didn't hex you or anything?"  
Canny Tim laughs and shakes his head.  
"Daniel, you have my assurance that I am fine! You've nothing to worry about! So Zarok plucked a few hairs from my head. I will live!" Tim said as he turned to continue his way outside. 

Daniel turned and began to go on his own way until something strange caught his eye. Quickly turning to look back at Tim, he saw a grey donkey's tail swishing behind him. A parting gift from Zarok. Daniel runs to block Tim from going outside and grabs his shoulders. He quickly turns him away and begins to walk back down the corridor with a quickened pace.  
"Tim, we have to go talk to the king. Now."  
"What for?"  
"Just go."  
"Why?"  
"Because I said so, now move."


	3. Chapter 3

The roar of battle, the clanging of arrows hitting iron shields, and the cracking of thunder were all not nearly as loud as the strangled scream of his captain as he was fatally wounded. He could not really be dead...he just couldn't! Tim could not even stop to check on him or he risked being trampled, himself. The men...his men...also needed him to lead them. He could not stop, no matter how badly he just wanted to throw his weapon down and rush to Daniel's side.  
Something stirred deep inside of him.   
Fire.   
Rage.   
It grew and grew until he felt ready to burst. Timothy began to see red. The zombie horde that charged them began to fall one by one as he shot them down. 

"Archers! Return fire! Guards! Cover our flanks! Paint the ground red with their blood! Let none of these motherless bastards survive!" Tim commanded as he aimed to the sky. The largest guards on the force defended outwards. They were trained to use their weight and size to their advantage. Among their ranks was the large bully from the pub. Daniel had offered him the spot and they put their differences aside. They had actually become good friends over the years. The rage that burned in Tim's heart also kindled within him as did the hearts of their army.

Arrows rained down on the zombie horde as their new Captain commanded. The arrows that did not pierce the squishy heads of the undead mass did very little good. Swords that hacked them to bits seemed so much more effective. Tim would keep this information in mind. He had other targets in mind, anyway. The sky turned black with a writhing mass of flying demons! Their shrieks far outnumbered the shouts of the army of Gallowmere.

"Archers! The skies! Shoot them down! Hold them off!" Tim's voice boomed over the demon's shrieks. The skies were so dense, every arrow landed a target and winged shadow demons rained down into the fray. If the arrows and fall did not kill them, swords, maces, and axes made sure to put them down. If only their army had magic weapons, their unholy enemies would fall like the leaves during autumn. They only had to hold the horde off long enough for the siege weapons to roll in, then this battle will be won! 

Tim's body count climbed higher and higher with every shot. He made sure to stand under his targets to quickly recover any unbroken arrows from the corpses and so he could drive a silver dagger into the hearts of surviving demons. It took many shots to bring down just one of the infernal beasts, who began to belch fire over clustered groups of soldiers. Tim shot a bolt clear down a demon's throat as it charged him, spewing fire. Acidic blood poured from its maw as it collided with the ground, skidding to a stop as it flipped head over clawed foot.   
Tim heard his name over the chaos of battle, but upon turning he came face to face with one of those accursed demons! It lunged at him and pinned him to the ground, knocking his crossbow from his hands. It wheezed a mocking laugh as it watched him try and fail to reach his weapon. Tim punched and fought back with all his might, but his blows bounced harmlessly of the gnarled hide of the monster. He could not reach his silver dagger with the shadow demon pinning his abdomen. He howled in pain as it sunk its teeth into his shoulder and began to twist its head from side to side, hoping to rip a sizable chunk from his body. He knew if he did not do something, this demon would devour him alive! Biting it back was out of the question, he knew it was useless.

His hands sifted through the mud for anything he could use to kill his demonic assassin. A dropped weapon, a sharp bone, even a stone was better than nothing! His fingers brushed against the fletching of a discarded arrow. He immediately gripped it and using all the strength he had, he ran it through the beast's temple. When it reared back to scream, Tim tore the arrow from its head and ran it through its throat, slicing sideways to tear open the neck of the demon. It jumped off of Tim's body and attempted to flee, but Tim would not let it get away. Despite his injury, he grappled with the monster and stabbed the arrow again and again through the demon's head. He did not stop putting holes in its skull until it stopped twitching. Even as the acidic blood corroded his armour and burned his flesh.

The arrow was ruined after being used in such a way, so he left it inside the demon's head and picked his crossbow from the ground. He winced from the pain that coursed through his torso when the weight of the weapon took its toll on his shoulder. His wound hurt him so badly, he dropped the crossbow and breathed heavily. He could feel his blood pouring from the deep bite. What good was this armour if it was pierced so easily? He could see where the teeth had punctured through plate and mail. There was no time to tend to it. He instead tore a large strip of cloth from his tabard, rolled it into a ball, and bit down on it. He ground his teeth into it as he picked up the crossbow once again despite the protest from his shoulder. The cloth did nothing to help his wound or relieve pain, but it helped him deal with it until he was able to be properly patched up.

Zarok yawned as he saw their reinforcements come rumbling to the battlefield. Siege weapons were no match for his infernal army and every soldier that fell was another one added to his ranks. He ordered his demons to descend upon the large wooden contraptions. Lord Kardok watched the battle in glee at Zarok's side. He'd actually managed to shoot out the famed Captain's eye. Captain Fortesque had been the first casualty and was struck down by the very first arrow. The same arrow Lord Kardok shot. He took aim at the Second, whom he'd kept his eye on. Lord Kardok made it a game for himself. He would pick off the officers first, striking the most important down in descending order. Kardok planned to wear their heads on his belt as he took the grand castle. His macabre trophies would strike fear into those he would trample underhoof. None would oppose him while staring into the clouded eyes of their slain 'heroes'.

Kardok chuckles when he sees the Second try to line up his shot at him. A real centaur would never be caught dead wielding a crossbow, though he may pry it from the archer's cold, dead fingers as a memento. Even from such a great distance, he could see it was quite an eye catching weapon. It would look nice hanging on the walls of his new quarters.   
"Go ahead, puppy...shoot me. Show me your tricks." the centaur's deep voice rumbled from within his throat.  
He released his arrow and waited for the Second to fall.

Zarok jumped when he heard a loud thunk next to him and watched Kardok rear up, screaming as blood spurt from his face. Kardok began to kick his legs frantically, knocking his own marksmen from the cliff face in this throes. He made an attempt to pull the arrow from his eye, but merely brushing his fingers against it made his pain intensify.   
Kardok's forelegs walk on air as they fail to find ground and his body plummets down the side of the cliff. Zarok peered over the side as he watched Kardok's body dash repeatedly against every boulder and outcropping on his way down. He could hear every bone snap and crunch during his descent before he hit the muddy ground, his twisted body completely lifeless. Kardok's arrow hit and sunk in the mud at Tim's feet.

"Alas! Poor Kardok! He hated everything and everyone...he will surely be missed...now with that out of the way, BRING ME THAT WHELP, I'LL HAVE HIM FLAYED!" Zarok commanded.   
A large concentration of demons dove from the swarm at Timothy. Tim held his shoulder and ran back towards the siege machines. He took the cloth from his mouth only long enough to order his men to fire. The ballista bolts managed to spear several demons at the same time and boulders crushed many others. The demons that gnawed at the machined swiped at him when he ran too close. There was nowhere for him to run. He was surrounded on all sides. Saliva dribbled out from between their fangs as they prepared to bite into his soft flesh. 

With a sudden flash of gold, the demons that surrounded him lay twitching and dying on the floor. Timothy caught glimpse of a mythical spectral serpent, its golden scales shimmering as it swam on air. Could this be the legendary serpent lord, Kul Katura? If it was, the tide of battle could quickly shift into his favour. Kul Katura was said to only appear when Gallowmere needed him most. He was said to be the guardian spirit of the land and had given his life centuries ago defending it.  
Shouts of his name rung out among the ranks of Tim's army. Kul Katura roars and slithers through the air towards the cloud of demons overhead. While arrows failed to bring them down, one snap of the serpent's jaws sent scores of demons crashing to the ground. Demons that struck the mythical being were burned by his shimmering scales.

Timothy knew he could not sit there and admire the benevolent spirit. He charged back into the chaos of battle, barking orders and picking off the remaining archers from the cliff face.


	4. Chapter 4

The Battle for Gallowmere raged on for a fortnight. Both sides suffered heavy losses. Kul Katura swirled above the bloodsoaked ground. He kept Zarok busy while the remaining army of Gallowmere regrouped for the final charge.  
Timothy ground the cloth between his teeth until it was mere fibers. He feared infection so rather than have his wound sewn shut, he held his knife over a fire and when it was glowing with heat, he pressed it to his shoulder. His screams joined the howls of pain of the other soldiers as they pulled arrows from their bodies, suffered amputations, and cauterized their own wounds as well. Unlike the others, Tim performed his own healing sober. He did not drink to dull the pain, he could not risk giving intoxicated orders.

His armour had been shredded by demon tooth, blood, and claw, but held together. The remaining force felt nothing but respect for their leader. His courage was one of the only rays of hope they had left. Gallowmere's entire army lay sinking in mud. Over one thousand men were struck down in the prime of their lives in their first battle. Only a mere handful remained. Tim's dark eyes stared emptily at the top of the tent. His body felt like it was falling apart. Whatever did not hurt felt numb.  
He could hardly look at his men. He's lost so many friends that he's known for years. They had not even had the time to pick up their dead. Vultures dotted the landscape and picked at the bodies that lay scattered across the mud. The scavengers did not feed from the demon's corpses. Not even the flies came near them. Some men that fell were younger than he was. If he made it out of this alive, he could not face their families. Somehow, he felt that he should not worry about that. He would occasionally catch glimpses and visions of Death out of the corner of his eye. If he were to die in this wretched place, he would do so after striking down his next target; Zarok. He goes over his plan once again in his head, then gets up to set it in motion.

"Sir, you must rest. You've only just come back." said one of his marksmen as they tried to lay him back on the makeshift cot.  
"I can't. I can't just lie here while...while my men die all around me."  
"And if you keep pushing yourself like this, you'll soon join the fallen. With the guardian spirit at our back, we will win this war. Now please-"  
"Do not stop me. This villain must die. He has lived for too long. I will avenge Sir Fortesque and ensure Gallowmere's safety. Our people have lived in fear for far too long. I appreciate your concern, but please do not worry for me." Tim said quietly, his voice hoarse from ordering his forces and screaming. They've run out of clean water days ago, so he couldn't even soothe his throat. He smiled at his archer. He's hardly slept during the two weeks and the battle took a heavy toll on his mind and body. The older archer could see his younger captain bear the full weight of leading on his shoulders and on his face. Canny Tim was like a son to the older archer and to see him in such a state broke his heart. He felt a natural urge to protect him as he would his own son, but he could not disobey an order. 

The older archer steps aside and helps Tim get to his shaky feet. He helps him wander outside before Tim dismisses him. The older archer did not want to leave his captain, but did not disobey him. Tim eyes the cliff as he studied a way up to Zarok. If he cut the head off the snake, the threat against Gallowmere will be snuffed out forever. Tim spots a trail that seems relatively easy for him to scale. He knows he can't face Zarok head-on. His magic would end him so fast, he wouldn't even be able to pull the trigger. He quietly sneaks around the battlefield to the cliff, then begins to ascend. His tired body screams for rest and his wounds burn as he hefts his body up the rocks, but he ignores it. He will rest only if he kills Zarok or if Zarok strikes him down instead.

Tim sees large hoofprints on the trail. They're larger than his head. Tim recognizes them as belonging to Lord Kardok. He was glad he was dead, his ruthlessness is known far and wide. He saw Kardok aiming for him before he released the fatal arrow. Tim kept himself low to avoid being spotted. The higher he climbed, the harder he fought for breath. The air grew thin and his tired body was starved for oxygen. Tim pauses for a moment to catch his breath. His hair stood on end when Zarok began to summon lightning to strike the spectral serpent. One bolt landed on Kul Katura's face, sending him reeling back. Zarok took the opportunity to fire bolt after bolt into the serpent lord.  
"Away with you and your meddling, you overgrown snake! Go back to your hole!" Zarok shouted as he shooed Kul Katura away.

Tim took his aim at Zarok. He aimed for his head and held his breath.  
Zarok suddenly vanished in a pillar of fire as Tim fired his shot. Kul Katura raced forward towards Tim, but stopped when Zarok appeared behind the archer and held an obsidian dagger to his throat.  
"Did you really think you could sneak up on me and whack me, you wretched little lapdog? Get to your feet." Zarok hissed. He kicked the crossbow from Tim's hands. He was helpless to watch as his treasured weapon slid away from him and tumbled down the side of the cliff.  
Timothy stood slowly and moved forward when Zarok commanded him to. Kul Katura backed away when Zarok threatened his hostage. 

"Gaze upon your fallen, whelp. Look at the way back of the battlefield. Is that poor old Daniel I see?" Zarok said as he began to laugh.  
"It is over Zarok. Your forces are not strong enough to take the castle. Your champion is dead. You have lost. Even if you kill me now, I will still have won." Tim hissed, the sharp obsidian threatening to slice him open.  
"You poor, young fool. You simply have no idea of what your precious Gallowmere is up against. Did you think this battle was the battle that would decide Gallowmere's fate? I wanted you to come here. I wanted to kill as many of Gallowmere's forces as I could. Do you know why? Of course you don't! I'll make you watch...watch what has become of your fellow soldiers." Zarok said as he tossed Timothy to the side. When he hit the ground, two stone spikes erupted from the earth and skewered Timothy through his chest and through his abdomen, immobilizing him. Blood bubbled up into his mouth and through his nose with every breath. He coughed, sending splatters all over the floor. He began to grow cold.

Zarok produced a huge, beautiful turquoise stone encircled in gold. Tim watched helplessly, struggling to reach into his leather pack. The stone began to glow brilliantly and it vibrated slightly in Zarok's hands. Movement down below caught Tim's attention. He saw his deceased soldiers begin to twitch and levitate off the ground. Zarok began to cackle madly as he watched the fallen soldiers begin to come back to life under his command. 

Tim had to do something. He had to! Anything! With the last of his strength, he retrieved his enchanted Hero's Crossbow from his bag and quickly loaded it. He only had the strength for one shot. With his hands trembling, he took careful aim at Zarok...then slowly raised the crossbow to the stone. There was a loud twang, then the sound of broken glass stopped Zarok's deranged laugh as his victory was stolen from him. He was helpless to watch as the Anubis Stone shattered and the pieces tumbled down the cliff face. 

"No...NO!!" Zarok shrieked. He took up his trident and brought it down on the helpless archer, skewering him through his abdomen. Zarok spouted curses at him as he twisted his weapon and removed it. Tim could so nothing to defend himself from the merciless strike.  
"You fool! Do you have any idea of what you have just done?! I! WILL! KILL! YOU!" He screamed, bringing his weapon down again and again on Tim's body. Zarok retracted the stones so Tim could fall to the floor. He was losing blood fast. Tim was in a daze, he could not focus on Zarok who kicked him in the chest to roll him over.  
"You have won this battle, you worthless little maggot, but mark my words. I will be back. Nothing and nobody will stop me. Your precious little Gallowmere will burn!" Zarok hissed, then delivered a sharp kick to Tim's paled face before escaping the battlefield in a pillar of fire.  
Kul Katura chased away what demons remained. He knew the king was preparing a prison in the Enchanted Wood. He would herd them there.

Everything was fading.

Everything he knew.

Everything he loved.

He did not even feel the pain anymore. He could feel blood escaping through his many puncture wounds...but there was nothing that could be done.  
He knew he was dying.  
He did not want to die.  
He was scared.  
He wanted to go home.  
He wanted to see Daniel, the king, and all his friends again.

Tim was pulled back from the light when he felt someone pick him up.

"Sir! It's Tim! He's still breathing!" came a voice.  
Timothy opened his eyes, but he could no see anything. All he saw was darkness.  
"Dear God...he's as white as a sheet...what can we do? We can't lose him!"

"No...stop...I know...I'm not...long for...this world..." Tim whispered. His voice was very weak. The two men he heard leaned in close to listen.  
"Tell him...the king...tell them...that it was...Fortesque who died this...day...Tell him...that he stopped Zarok...not me..." he whispered. He knew he had to hurry.  
"But-but why? Daniel-"  
"Daniel is their...hero...not me...Our people...need hope...He can...give it to them. They know him...they do not...know me...and I am fine with that...Please...my...final...request. Tell them...I died in the...first volley...if you must...this will...honour my memory. As long...as Daniel is...remembered...I am remembered too...please...do this...for...me...for...Ga...llow...mereee............." Tim's voice grew softer until it was hardly audible. Upon his last word, he drew a final, gurgling breath and the light in his eyes had snuffed out. 

The kingdom wept.

 

Sir "Canny" Timothy Trueshot  
1262-1286


End file.
